A Different Sort of Family
by Abby303
Summary: What if that night Harry was taken right up off his doorstep? Another take on how leaving a kid on a someone's doorstep doesn't necessarily mean that they will receive said baby. Dumbledore should've been more careful. As for Harry, growing up with a friendly bunch of assassins may not be easy, but at least its better then the Dursleys.


**A Different Sort of Family**

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were very normal, thank you very much. They were ordinary. Bland. _Boring- though they didn't think so._

And they were very content with that. They had a normal spouse, a normal slightly overweight son, and they made themselves a normal family. They lived in a normal house, with normal nosy neighbors -and were the normal amount of nosy right back- , in a normal neighborhood.

Yes, they were normal, and they did everything they could to keep it this way.

Naturally, they were upset when a basket was left near their front door, with a letter proclaiming that Mrs Dursley's _freakish!_ sister had died, and that her _freakish!_ son was in their care, and _just what would the neighbors think of all this?!_ They were far more relieved and slightly angry when they noticed that the basket was bare, with no baby in sight, and that they were left on the end of what they thought was a very elaborate prank.

Zyra was bored. Her life was interesting,sure -killing people for a living tended to make it such- but something was missing - and _damn _did she sound like someone from one of those crappy romcoms on t.v. Unfortunately, it wasn't anything that could easily be found by pointing a gun at some poor sap, or shanking the annoying drunks 'cross the street.

_Unfortunately..._

With no current goals in mind she wandered, as she was prone to do. Nothin' much to do, really 'cept visit (terrorize) old friends...

Who'd recently moved into Number 7 Privet Drive, and who couldn't stop complaining about their useless, annoying, _nosy _neighbors living at Number 4.

3 hours, 2 coffees and one extraordinarily long rant later, Zyra _finally_ managed to extract herself from the 7's. And promptly ducked behind the nearest dumpster because _loud_ _popping _sounds at one in the morning were never a good thing-

_They're never really good at any time really..._

-and waited until finally _finally!_ a tall old man ambled up to Number 4...wearing a _dress. _(A ridiculous one that left a small part of her feeling vindicated for the 7's if these were the kind of people the 4's hung around)

"Fancy seeing you here Professor McGonagall".

_Either __that __old __guy__'__s __lost __every __single __one o__f __his __marbles,__or __he __has __a __problem __with naming animals__._

Zyra listened to their conversation, watching as the conversation from Lily and James' death, ("horrible, just horrible") to muggle (whatever _that_ is) sweets.

_"Fancy a lemon drop?"_

The entire time Miss. Takahashi, wondered what the hell she walked into. After all, cats-turned human, and old men in bath robes are not normal.

Eventually, a flying motorcycle landed. _A __flying __MOTORCYCLE. ( And by now Zyra decided that she wasup and ready to enroll herself into the nearest mental hospital because no matter who you are, or where you come from, flying motorcycles are definitely not normal. She still wanted one. )_

The driver surprised her more than anything. He was a giant of a man, with a coat that had as many pockets as he had hair. And tucked into his arms was a little boy, with wild black hair and a curious scar.

The conversation soon switched to the little boy. Zyra's heart swelled in pity adoration, because of the cuteness of the little toddler, and the fact that he was so recently orphaned.

She soon learned that the poor little boy was going to be left with the Dursleys. Zyra grimaced. The Dursleys were known for their obsession with normalcy. With her black hair, bleached-white highlights, bright silver eyes, and ex-job, Zyra was anything but. And from what she could tell, neither was little Harry.

Eventually, the trio of creepers left, with the giant-man leaving the toddler out on the doorstep. The part of Zyra's mind not processing what she just witnessed was wondering about _how the hell_ do you leave a baby on a doorstep at the beginning of November. A baby. On a doorstep. On a freezing cold night. She briefly wondered what sort of crack they were on…Or if they were cruel monsters. Or idiots…Or a mix of all three.

Walking up to the child, she finally got a good look at him. Black hair. Slightly pale skin. He opened his eyes briefly (they were emerald green), and let out the cutest yawn she ever heard.

Mind reeling at the possibilities, Zyra picked up the adorable toddler.

_She __never __did __like __the __Dursleys...because really, who names their son _Dudley?

_She'd always wanted a kid._

_She never cared for the law._

_She could always use the extra help._

_She always wanted to fool the retards at the airport with a couple of fake passports._

_The Dursleys would probably use the kid as a slave. How was she a bad person for ending possible child abuse?_

_She could finally spend a bit of all that she made on a good cause._

_What's the harm?_

Conscience defeated, Zyra's mind strayed to the cute little sailer outfits she saw in a display window. She nearly shreaked in delight. After all, she finally had her own son.

And as for the crazy people she overheard…

Well, they did leave the kid on a doorstep.

**Sooo…Whatcha' think? Is it good? Boring? Bad? Interesting? Why don't you let me know in a review? This is probably going to stay a one-shot. And, as you may or may not be able to tell, this was cleaned up a bit. **

**That's all for now. Peace.**

**Abby303**


End file.
